


Wonderland

by princesszaf



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, literary boyfies jjp...let's go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: Jinyoung finds solace in his grandparents' bookstore and in the arms of his ex-lover.( aka a small town, literary boyfriends AU where jaebum abandons jinyoung after promising him the world )





	1. because fate has a funny way of mending things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enjolrasi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasi/gifts).



> i posted this for 0.24 seconds before realising i'd fucked up the formatting
> 
> \- i wrote this for liv. we practically wrote the first chapter together and then abandoned it (kinda) and i'm here to pick up from where we stopped
> 
> \- i really hope the formatting makes sense? it's not the most linear narration but it just...fits them
> 
> \- zaf attempts a multichaptered fic...again. let's go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what did my fingers do before they held him?  
> what did my heart do with its love?
> 
> \- s. plath

_I love you_ is a quiet declaration against Jaebum’s skin. Jinyoung presses it against his temple with swollen lips, holds it reverent in the clasp of their hands.

Jaebum’s first attempt at an _I love you_ is in the crane of his neck, a small mewl from his lips. An insistent tug at Jinyoung’s fingers and his laughter is light. It carries through the small space, making flowers bloom, sunlight streaming in through the window above Jinyoung’s bed and setting his hair alight.

He attempts his _I love you_ again - fingers untangling from Jinyoung’s to wrap around his waist, pulling his chest against Jaebum’s. There’s a short noise of disbelief from the angel pressing against him but Jaebum laughs, how he laughs, a warm chuckle reverberating against Jinyoung’s body. Im Jaebum is his warmth - what a strange sensation - and he seals his promise in the embrace of their lips.

Jinyoung tastes of fresh peaches and summer. Jaebum devours it - the taste of him, the feel of him, this everlasting moment. It’s in the confines of Jinyoung’s cramped room but this, in his arms, surrounded by pages and pages of writers spilling their blood for the universe to admire, it’s his only home.

He tells Jinyoung this, a few hours later. Midnight has come and midnight has gone but they lie awake, wrapped in blankets and arms. Jinyoung’s head is against his chest and he cards his fingers through Jinyoung’s hair. Silken tresses of raven, curling right under his ears.

“You’re my only home,” and they’ve promised to be honest with each other. His words are raw, sharp with emotion.

And it’s sacred in Jinyoung’s four walls, the night sky their witness. It’s sweet words, darling words but it’s nothing they haven’t traded before. Either through drops of ink or lips against lips, they breathe and live a poem of their own making.

“You hold me in alarmingly high esteem, Im Jaebum,” and it’s soft, light, a sweet giggle bubbling in his throat.

“As I should,” and it is said with utmost seriousness.

Jinyoung looks up at him, sees solemness in his fierce gaze, the set of his jaw. It’s a breathless moment. Jaebum’s hand finds the back of his neck, urging him closer. so gentle, so loving, as if he holds something precious.

“They’re not empty words,” he murmurs in the inches between them. Jinyoung’s eyes on his lips, Jaebum’s gaze on his eyes.

“I know,” Jinyoung whispers back, sucking in his breath unsteadily.

This is real, Jinyoung tells himself. This thing they have is real. Their love is earnest, wonderfully tender, everything he’s yearned for since he’s known about love.

“I just hope you’re not too good to be true, Im Jaebum,” he aims for casual but his words come trembling with insecurity.

“You’re the one who’s too good for me,” and it’s a kiss between Jinyoung’s brows.

Strong arms hold Jinyoung close until he falls asleep. Jaebum sings him a lullaby through it and Jinyoung will remember it years from now, vividly, bitterly, trying everything in his power to erase it from his memory.

* * *

 

 

With sixteen comes unprecedented freedom. There’s a lot to be triumphant about - Jinyoung holds a valid driver’s license, has had his first drink despite not enjoying it very much and has allowed his best friend to gush about losing his virginity to the prettiest girl in school.

It’s all very adult-like and it’s an exhilarating thing.

Pennies are diligently saved for rainy days. He works a few hours after school at his grandparents’ bookstore, a cramped little thing squeezed in between Joe’s diner and the vet’s clinic. They had promised to treat him like any other employee and he only complains about special treatment when it doesn’t involve feeding him. His grandmother’s lemon icing cupcakes are the best in town, after all, and he’d be a fool to not exploit his grandparents’ kindness.

Rainy days, eventually, translate to “Richard Siken’s making a visit to the city and I need money for gas and accommodation and tickets”. It doesn’t take much convincing - Jinyoung’s always been a good, hassle free child and he deserves this. Wonpil’s agreed to come along too - not because he cares for Siken much but it’ll be their opportunity to roam the city streets and make new memories together. _As men._

 _Are there any clubs around the meet & greet venue? _ he’d asked Jinyoung, jumpy in his seat.

Jinyoung didn’t know then but he did vow to get back to Wonpil about it. He spends a while on the website, going through some of Siken’s newer poetry he hasn’t had the opportunity to read yet before purchasing their tickets. He’s so excited to break the news to Wonpil - that _yes, I've bought the tickets and we’ll be travelling all the way to the city alone, just the two of us!_ \- that he forgets about fulfilling Wonpil’s request entirely.

He only realises it at the doors of the public library. _It’s alright though_ , he tells himself apprehensively, _I can check once I’m back home_.

There’s more important news to share with him and Jinyoung’s all but sprinting to their cozy nook in the library, not forgetting to greet the librarian with a cheery smile. He’s awfully breathless and entirely too excited, words boiling like fire on his tongue.

“Oh my god, Piri, guess who just bought our passes for the Siken reading -!”

And he skids to a stop right by the bay window, frowning when he sees an unfamiliar face sitting there. Norwich is a small hamlet of 785 residents, a forgotten little thing on the banks of the Puyallup riverbed. It’s only polite to know of everybody who lives there - the university students come and go but nobody really bothers with them as long as they stick to their side of town and aren’t a nuisance to the residents.

“Oh. No. Wait, sorry. You’re not Wonpil,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. The guy seems like a textbook brooder - Jinyoung can’t say he’s a huge fan but his aesthetic is…worth a moment’s appreciation, at least, if one’s being entirely objective.

Sharp jaw, sharper gaze, two romantic dots above his eye he’s not entirely sure are real moles or drawn on with a marker. He wears a crisp navy shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves messily rolled up halfway across his forearms.

He’s assessing Jinyoung too, he realises with a start, and there’s seems to be nothing forgiving about his gaze. Jinyoung almost shifts uncomfortably in his place, trying not to seem too bothered by it.

“Thank god for that,” the stranger replies, brusque. “I wouldn’t go anywhere near that place.”

Jinyoung would’ve admire the smoothness of his voice if he wasn’t such an _asshole_ right off the bat. Jinyoung knows his manners but allows no disrespect. He’s quick to fold his arms, scoff angrily and attempts to tame his features before replying, very pointed.

“Good to know,” and he squints to read the title of the book the stranger’s holding. _The Sun Always Rises,_ he reads and sneers rudely, rolling his eyes. The guy holds the book tighter then, pulls it to his chest, as if protecting it from Jinyoung’s unappreciative gaze.

“Fat load of judgment coming from someone who’s probably built Hemingway a shrine,” he deadpans, though his heart leaps about nervously in his chest, disagreeing with the eventual quarrel already.

The guy laughs then. It’s more of an aggressive bark, disgusting and loud. Jinyoung frowns again, irritated and he just looks him straight in the eye, words rolling off his tongue. “As if you could ever compare Hemingway with Siken.”

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of comparing Hemingway with anyone,” he shoots back, dramatic. Then pauses, narrows his eyes at him and shoots his words like bullets. “It’d be grievous defeat after defeat on his part.”

That seems to have ruffled some feathers, he notices. He rises to his feet abruptly, still holding the book close to his chest. He’s not much taller than Jinyoung - no, he steps a little closer, he’s not taller than Jinyoung at all. They’re the same height and Jinyoung feels oddly victorious about it.

“I don’t even have the time to explain how wrong you are,” it sounds like the end of a conversation, with how he splutters it out angrily, eyes narrowed into slits. He just stands there though, as if awaiting his rebuttal and Jinyoung’s ready to deliver.

“I suppose you’d just utilise an entire arsenal of pretentious words to put your point across,” he hums, an awful generalisation but he knows enough about boys who jack off to writers like Hemingway to know what they’re like. Or at least, the nasty stereotypes he’s built of them in his head haven’t ever failed him before and it seems unlikely now.

“It’s not like you’re incapable of understanding the English language?” he shrugs, still frowning. “I don’t see your point.”

And then, a weighted pause. “Anyway, you read Siken. You’re no one to talk.”

“I just know your type,” Jinyoung exhales, folding his arms, slightly red in the face already.

“My type? What _is_ my type, kid?” he folds his arms too and Jinyoung wants to take a club to his pretty face for how patronising he sounds.

“You probably think Kerouac invented modern literature, ache for your clichéd coming of age road trip, describe women the way you’d probably also describe a dentist’s appointment,” he rattles on, ignoring the smug look on the other guy’s face. “And your protagonists probably have their moment of realisation at the girl’s funeral and you’ll write about how the world finally makes sense now in the most clinical, unimpressive manner.”

“You’ve known me for two minutes and you’ve already figured me out?” he whistles, raising his brows in mock appreciation. “Someone’s a mind reader.”

They’re innocuous words but his tone’s _infuriating_. “You’re so full of yourself!” Jinyoung snaps back, frown deepening.

“And you’re not?” he retorts.

“No, you just seem to be extremely talented in bringing out the worst in people,” he huffs, stomping towards the seat he was sprawled across only moments ago. He plops down in it, raising a brow, as if awaiting a challenge.

The guy just shrugs though, an ugly smirk on his face. Jinyoung wants to whack it off.

“What you’re saying is…” he places his words carefully, an annoying sing song to them. “You’re just as condescending as I am, just more proficient at hiding it?”

“More like I’m proficient at being a decent human being to those who deserve it,” Jinyoung snarls right back, “and I don’t take pride in how many people I’ve managed to offend in the span of ten minutes.”

“Please, sweetheart, I’m a ‘decent human being to those who deserve it’. I just don’t think you do,” he hums.

“You’re insufferable,” is all Jinyoung can muster in response, furious but growing weary now.

The guy considers this a win - Jinyoung just _knows_ he does, from his shit eating grin and the audacious wink he throws at Jinyoung.

“Nice to know. See you around, kiddo.”

Jinyoung just thumps his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes and praying for him to walk away right now. Far, far away from him. A pest, is what that guy is, and he sighs in relief when he hears receding footsteps. He hears another set of footsteps, a startled noise, exchanged apologies.

He senses Wonpil close to him soon after, a pleasant thing after the annoyance he had the misfortune to bump into. He’s nursing his migraine when Wonpil sits next to him, shifting closer and wrapping his arms around Jinyoung’s legs.

He opens his eyes when Wonpil props his chin on his knees. His friend is trying his hardest not to grin and Jinyoung frowns suspiciously, raising a brow in silent question.

“So. It looks like you’ve met Jaebum,” he hums casually and Jinyoung wonders if the asshole happened to eavesdrop on the last few bits of their disaster of a conversation.

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Jinyoung grunts, closing his eyes again. He can feel Wonpil still grinning at him so he shoves him away, kicks in his general direction and congratulates himself when he hears him grumble in protest.

“Well,” Wonpil huffs, settling across from Jinyoung. “Get used to it because he’s here to stay.”

 

* * *

 

This is not an ideal Saturday evening.

It takes a good few seconds for Jinyoung to register the reality of this - that Im Jaebum stands right in front of him, all inappropriately cozy in the cocoon of his bookstore and that he’s not a figment of his imagination. That this isn't from one of his dreams, that he's not a ghost. That Jaebum’s alive and breathing and has a sprout of scruff growing at his jaw, shoulders broader than he's ever seen them, hair tousled like it always ever was.

And it takes another couple of seconds for Jinyoung to look away. Look back again. His limbs feel like jelly and his tongue feels slack, just heavy weight in his mouth, incapable of any articulation. Im Jaebum. Im goddamn Jaebum holding a book between his slender fingers, turning it over like it's something precious, fingertips grazing its spine.

He's not allowed that. Not here.

“Hi,” Jinyoung manages, slightly raspy and abrupt. There's nothing sweet about it.

There seems to be no remorse in Jaebum’s voice when he replies, “Hi. Long time no see.”

He plucks a book from a shelf and turns it around in his hands - soft hands, warm hands, tips of his index finger and thumb calloused from caressing a pen all day. Jinyoung curses himself. Romanticising Jaebum is a habit he hasn’t broken yet, even after all the heartbreak, almost as if he’s clinging onto weak fibres of hope.

 _Long time no see_ , Jaebum says it like they ended on terms that called for pleasantries after. Like they hadn't promised sweet things to each other years ago, like Jinyoung wasn't convinced Jaebum’s heart and his own thrummed with the same vigour. Like encounters like theirs, two people incredibly and fortunately in love like them, two souls connecting on the most fundamental of levels, ultimately found sorrow in the ashes of it. He's thought about this moment before. Several times. Almost far too often. All extremities of emotion die at his throat and his actions are jerky, smile forced. at least he's trying.

“You look good," the words ring hollow. Jinyoung moves around the store a bit, finds a book to distract his hands with. The weight of it is grounding, another reminder that he isn't floating somewhere in a bittersweet dream.

There is no remorse. There’s not a speck of shame. Jaebum’s gaze doesn’t shift away and Jinyoung doesn’t bask in his attention like he used to. It’s _unnerving_ , irritation a sizzle on his skin because Jaebum just _looks_. His eyes wander Jinyoung’s frame like he’s got the permission to. Exploring the way Jinyoung’s limbs have grown out, the soft flick of his perm, the shadow along his jaw. He’s not the Jinyoung Jaebum knew him as but there’s still some memory of it in Jinyoung’s nervousness - restless fingers find a book, just like Jaebum’s hands had done a few moments ago. He plays with the ends, resists the urge to make dog ears in them. Teeth gnaw at his lower lip.

Jinyoung doesn’t think of the Jaebum he knew at eighteen. They’d spend hours sitting behind the library, a small little nook between walls. Jaebum’s head in his lap as he’d recite sweet words from a text, Jinyoung’s soft hands playing with his hair, Jaebum’s words playing with his heart. He’d drop stanzas from his poetry book and replace them with ones of his one - raw, honest, fond. Jinyoung would drop his head then, placing a sweet kiss to Jaebum’s forehead.

“Tell that to me when you mean it, Jinyoungie,” and this is easy, it's what they've always done and Jaebum's words come with a burst of laughter. 

There's nostalgia in the familiarity of this and Jinyoung's body reacts before his brain does - Jaebum's laugh has Jinyoung’s nostrils flaming, his flippant words have Jinyoung gaping slightly. iI's almost clockwork and his strangled protest is quick to follow.

“I do mean it," and it's not without an irritated huff.

“Thanks,” Jaebum brushes him off and Jinyoung looks up, sees a dopey grin on Jaebum’s face. “So do you.”

The grin’s infectious. Maybe it’s how Jinyoung hasn’t processed most of it, hasn’t swallowed the reality of Jaebum being present in Norwich again, that allows it. It’s a small smile he’d reserve for moments like this - when they’d bicker with colour in their cheeks, eyes glowing with warmth, bodies leaning towards each other, awfully shy.

It’s easy to slip into old habits - Jaebum’s grin disappears, Jinyoung’s falls flat too. The air around them is thick with tension and Jinyoung wonders if things would’ve gone differently if his grandparents were still around at the store. It’s inappropriately intimate, the way Jaebum’s compliment softens him still. Honesty and passion, they’d agreed on years ago, and it’s silly to want himself to feel desirable to Jaebum now too, even after he’s grown comfortable enough in his own skin to not think about it as often.

”Thank you,” and it’s barely above a whisper but still too loud amongst the piles of books. He doesn’t meet his eyes now, lest Jaebum finds longing in them, nostalgia despite all the distance. All the opportunity to loathe Im Jaebum for giving him happiness and then cruelly stealing it away.

His face falls. There's stifling silence hanging in the air and for all the familiarity of it, Jinyoung and Jaebum are something from their past now. There's no ignoring that.

“Why are you _back_ , Jaebum -“

"Stuff." is his reply. A pause. “I don’t really know,” and he seems honest about it, gaze finally dropping.

Jaebum doesn't have an answer and were it another time, if Jinyoung had the opportunity to process all of it, he would've laughed. Hollow, bitter, disbelieving.

“Oh, okay," is all he can manage now. Jinyoung doesn't look at Jaebum, just toys with the book in his hands. it's Bukowski, he notices, and clutches the hardbound firmly to his chest.

Jaebum’s eyes reach the book and raise his eyebrows. “ _What a weary time those years were -- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability_.” he quotes instead. The book in Jinyoung’s hands is identified already.

Jaebum clears his throat and looks away. “Ham on Rye. One of my favourites.”

And Jaebum does it, quotes prose to him like he used to years ago and Jinyoung widens his eyes. There’s a lump in his throat and he clutches the book fiercely, protectively. The quote rolls off Jaebum’s tongue with ease, something that should feel foreign for all the years between them but it’s achingly familiar and Jinyoung hates him for it. He doesn’t know what to do, really, other than pull the book closer, respond defensively with another quote.

” _Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope no matter what happened to you_.” A pause, as if Jinyoung’s offering him validation. Himself validation. whatever. ”It’s…a friend’s favourite too. The book, I mean.”

Jinyoung and Jaebum are back at it again, though it doesn't feel right now, not like this.

“Must be one hell of a friend if he’s gotten you to like Bukowski," Jaebum offers him a smile, soft, but it only hurts.

There's a lull in the air, thick with apprehension and Jinyoung's moving away again, doesn't want Jaebum to follow him around the store this time.

“Why are you here?” and he's not talking about Norwich now. It's as if his words almost make a tired flourish at the bookstore, his abode for all these years.

Jaebum takes a deep breath and a step back. All of it feels like torture.

“I just stepped in to say hi," he says as if that's reasonable, as if they're old friends in need of a cozy reunion. “And to tell you I’m back myself…instead of Wonpil or whoever telling you about it first,” he takes a step backward and then seems to remember the book in his hands.

“And…” he's at a loss for words suddenly and Jinyoung looks up at Jaebum now, trying not to let the tears fall from his eyes. “I wanted to give you this," he finishes, not looking at Jinyoung anymore.

Jaebum places the book on the table in front of him, atop a scattered display of books.

”Bye, Jinyoung,” he says with a strange smile, looking at Jinyoung one last time before leaving the store.

Jinyoung doesn't know what he was expecting - all he’d given Jaebum was hostility. Jaebum's always been respectful, self preserving. It wouldn't have been like him to stay, intrude upon Jinyoung’s space because he's just not like that. There's a heavy gasp at Jinyoung’s lips when he hears the doors chime of his departure, when he doesn't feel Jaebum’s presence around him anymore. How he'd come to sense it like an extension of himself, how instinct still remains intact after all these years.

He doesn't really crumble. It's just dry heaving, tears burning at his eyes but not quite spilling. Gasping for air as he leans against a table of books, finds strength in the support, squeezes his eyes shut. The only thing that cements all of this in reality is that thing Jaebum left for him - he turns around, wipes hastily at his eyes and rushes towards it, runs a hand down the spine of it.

 _Wonderland_ by _Im Jaebum,_ and it's beautiful in midnight blue. It's choked laughter, joyous about something and bitter about something else and he holds it like treasure, trembling and gentle. Turns it over in his hands before hesitantly flipping to the first page and there's a stone caught in his throat, has him crying wet against his cheek now -

 

 

 

_for him._

 

 

 

 


	2. take a lover who leaves hickeys on your soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pero se van tiñendo con tu amor mis palabras. todo lo ocupas tú. 
> 
>  
> 
> _but my words become stained with your love. you occupy everything._
> 
>  
> 
> \- p. neruda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i wrote this the same night i wrote chapter 1
> 
> \- i'm not doing the lapslock thing anymore :-)

 

Jinyoung doesn’t tell Reece about Jaebum.

The book sits under a pile of his sweaters, guarded from Reece’s view. His boyfriend’s never been the prying kind, always trusting. He’s got so much love to give and he’s got everything that makes him worth adoring.

Jinyoung has to swallow the lump in his throat when he pushes through Reece’s front door. Reece is cooking curry again, hot spices wafting through the foyer. There’s a chime of greeting from the kitchen and Jinyoung hates himself already.

He slips out of his shoes, discards his bag on Reece’s loveseat before shuffling into the kitchen. His socks slide on the linoleum and he makes himself kiss Reece on the cheek. Lips drag across stubble and he wraps a loose arm around Reece’s waist, nuzzles his nose into Reece’s neck.

“Hey, baby,” Reece murmurs with a lovely smile. He’s got a lovelier heart and Jinyoung doesn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve any of this.

Reece tilts his head and kisses Jinyoung’s forehead. He’s still in his scrubs and Jinyoung forces himself to feel more for the man in his embrace. It’s never been this difficult and it’s all Im Jaebum’s fault for showing up when he’s finally fucking got his life together, when he’s _finally_  attempting to move on from his pathetic sob story.

Jinyoung at twenty one had had a grand plan to take a torch to all of his scribbled poetry. Heaps of it, hidden in different corners of his room. Some plastered to his walls, others cheekily pressed between pages of other books. Books shoved under his bed, crumpled balls of paper in his wardrobe. It was three in the morning and he had an exam the next day but fuck it all -

In a fit of frenzied hatred and self pity, he’d gathered all of it, a messy pile on his bed. All his words written during sweeter times stared at him, mocking him, leering at him. This is what he’d become - Jaebum had left him months ago but he was still clinging on like a fool, desperately hoping Jaebum would make a return.

The matchbox was right there. He could stuff all of it into a bag and burn it. Turn his love and promises and memories of Jaebum into ashes.

He couldn’t. Attempting only reduced him to sobs, ugly sobs, grief spilling onto his carpet and quilt.

“Baby?” Reece frowns in concern. Jinyoung blinks up at him, a bit dazed, and shakes his head with a half hearted laugh when Reece drops his spatula. He turns to Jinyoung then, wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s waist and kisses his nose. Kisses his forehead, lips finding the corner of Jinyoung’s mouth then.

“Are you okay?” and Reece _cares_. Jinyoung quells an overwhelming urge to throw up, nausea stopping somewhere in his throat before returning to his belly. He feels _sick_  - everything about this should be utopian but he thinks about Im Jaebum with his midnight blue poetry book and dopey smile and it’s him Jinyoung’s heart beats for.

It’s always been just Jaebum.

“I am, sweetheart,” he lies against Reece’s teeth. “I’m just tired.”

He drags a hand through Reece’s thick hair then, fingers catching on ringlets. Meets Reece’s gaze, drowns in the splashes of colour there. Strong arms hold him upright and he laughs suddenly against Reece then, resting his forehead against Reece’s shoulder.

“What? What is it?” Reece sounds confused but there’s relief in his voice too. He holds Jinyoung with one arm, returns to holding the spatula with the other and Jinyoung’s lips move lazily against his boyfriend’s throat.

“I just…I thought of us,” Jinyoung hopes he doesn’t sound too remorseful, “When we were still in school? Who thought I’d end up dating you, of all people?”

It’s Reece’s turn to laugh. It’s loud and boisterous but he doesn’t reply. He only hums in acknowledgment then and Jinyoung ignores the gutting disappointment turning his nerves grey.

Sometimes, just _sometimes_ , he wishes Reece could indulge him in things like this. Always willing to make conversation about the strangest of things, the most sentimental of things, pondering about the past and making promises for the future. It’s what he thrives on, words and the romance in them, but Reece isn’t the perfect package.

Reece isn’t Jaebum, says a nagging voice in his head.

It wouldn’t be fair. “Go change,” Reece hums by his ear then, giving the side of Jinyoung’s head a brief kiss before gently nudging him away. “Food will be ready in ten minutes.”

 

* * *

 

It’s been only a day since their tragic meeting in the library and Jaebum has proven to be a nuisance already.

Long gone are the days when Jinyoung actually enjoyed literature class. Jaebum sits a few seats behind Jinyoung, sleeping and rolling his eyes for the most of it, pitching in only to disagree or be snide. Jinyoung can’t stomach Jaebum’s conveniently feigned apathy, his rudeness towards miss Flo. The way Jinyoung can feel his sneer burning into his skull from rows behind and it takes all of Wonpil’s and Brian’s combined strength to stop him from practically lunging at Jaebum during lunch.

And so it goes. Miss Flo doesn’t pay much attention to Jaebum anymore and she’s almost…sweet to him, something that takes both Jinyoung and Jaebum by surprise. Jinyoung still vows to hate him forever, of course, and he really does despise how Jaebum grows to take a liking towards Miss Flo.

“She’s _my_  favourite,” he tells Brian on their way back home.

“You’re strange,” is all Brian hums back, chomping into his apple before offering Jinyoung some of it.

Miss Flo has successfully managed to tame the shrew and within a month’s time, Jaebum has successfully managed to criticise every single one of Jinyoung’s contributions during class discussions.

“Do you do it just to piss me off?” Jinyoung hisses to him after one particularly heated lecture.

“You wish, kid,” Jaebum replied, terribly smug.

Jaebum might be an irksome presence in school but Jinyoung knows there’s no way Jaebum could taint the sanctity of his bookstore. It was _his_  territory first and he expects Jaebum to worm his way there sometime or later but it’s just his for now.

What made the entire ordeal unfortunate presents itself at 7pm at Joe’s diner. It’s been a few weeks since Jaebum’s been in town but Jinyoung’s only ever seen him now, working behind the counter with dissatisfaction written all over his face and Jinyoung almost doesn’t want to place an order.

Jaebum catches sight of him before Jinyoung decides to sprint out of there. He can’t go now, not when Jaebum’s frown only deepens. Jaebum doesn’t seem surprised to see him there though and Jinyoung’s almost curious to know why.

It’s when Joe emerges from the kitchen, plates of food balancing precariously on his upper limbs, shouting irritated orders at Jaebum that some of it makes sense. Their relationship seems to surpass the average employer - employee one, Jaebum dropping formalities and assuming responsibility very grudgingly. Joe hisses something at him, dangerously thrusts one of his arms towards a table and Jaebum sighs, loud and dramatic before plucking them off Joe to go do his job.

Joe sees Jinyoung then, his scowl transforming into a tired smile. Jinyoung resists the urge to preen about it, just bustles forward to help Joe a bit too.

“You’ve met Jaebum, then?” Joe huffs irately, looking over Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“Sort of, yeah,” Jinyoung replies, trying to swallow the bile in his throat. “We’re in the same grade.”

“The brat’s my godson,” is all the explanation Joe gives him. There’s more to the story, it seems, but it’s not Jinyoung’s place to inquire. “Just…look out for him, yeah? He’s a good kid, just a little lonely.”

Jinyoung doesn’t vocalise his disagreement but he nods all the same. He turns around, sneaks a glance at Jaebum and flushes hotly when their eyes meet. Jaebum’s doing that thing again - assessing him like he’s got a lot to disapprove of - and Jinyoung rushes out of there.

It’s only when he’s back to organising the new stock that Jinyoung realises he forgot about his coffee altogether.

He resigns himself to a few more hours of tedious shelving before closing time. His grandfather’s radio plays in the background, all vintage classics Jinyoung’s grown fond of over the years. It’s all he listens to anymore and he’s humming along to Aretha Franklin when the doors chime with a customer’s arrival.

Jinyoung’s crosslegged on the floor and he cranes his neck to see who it is, glasses right on the tip of his nose.

“Uh, Jinyoung? You here?”

Jinyoung does not expect to hear that voice. He jumps up from his spot on the ground, dusting his corduroys clean. Jaebum stands by the door awkwardly, offering him a forced smile before looking away.

He’s got coffee in his hand and a takeaway bag in the other and Jinyoung nods in faint acknowledgment, as stumped for words as Jaebum is.

“Am I?” he jokes lamely, shrugging.

They haven’t been in this close proximity to each other since the library incident. It’s funny, how they’re surrounded by books again, how there’s every opportunity for them to break into pointless banter again. There’s heavy tension in the air though, something Jinyoung can’t quite put his finger on. Jaebum meets his gaze and Jinyoung finds his shyness almost…endearing.

He’s quick to rebuke himself for it.

Jaebum rewards his joke with a small smile. His eyes linger on Jinyoung’s for a moment too long before he remembers himself, blinking rapidly before thrusting his arms out at Jinyoung.

“For you,” he says stiffly. “Joe said…you usually come to the diner for your coffee at seven but you didn’t place an order today.” And then, wryly, “I wonder why.”

Jinyoung almost feels guilty about it. He doesn’t have anything nasty to say now, not when Jaebum’s brought him coffee _and_  food, his two ultimate weaknesses.

“Ah, thank you!” he nods, smiling at Jaebum. Jinyoung takes the food from Jaebum then, placing them on a table. He pats his pockets then, frowning when he doesn’t feel the ridges of his wallet. “Hold on, lemme just grab -“

“It’s on the house, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says it nicely but it sounds a bit strained, as if Jinyoung was testing his patience.

Jinyoung’s confused but he isn’t the kind to say no to free food. His grandparents are friends with Joe, anyway. He’s had several free meals in the past. This definitely shouldn’t make him feel grateful towards Jaebum.

“Tell Joe I said thank you,” he nods, giving Jaebum another smile.

Jaebum opens his mouth to say something, frowning a little but he seems to decide against it, pursing his lips together again.

“I’ve always wanted to come in here, you know.”

Jinyoung wasn’t expecting to make conversation. Surprise overwhelms his pride and he raises his brows, curious. “You’ve known about Literati?”

Jaebum chuckles then, a little sheepish. Jinyoung thinks he can see Jaebum’s ears turn a little red and wonders if he’s seeing things.

“Yeah. I mean, Joe’s used the bookstore to bribe me to work at his diner,” he admits, palm finding the back of his neck.

Jinyoung swallows, feeling awfully guilty again. “But…I’ve been holding you back.” Jaebum dislikes him that much?

“No!” and it’s funny, how they’ve been at each other’s throats for weeks now and Jaebum’s this earnest to comfort him now.

He really does look aggrieved about Jinyoung misunderstanding him, and the words seem to spill from his mouth faster than he can control them. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. That’s all. It seems like your safe haven.”

He continues, “I can see why. It’s dream-like here.”

Jaebum sounds wistful, eyes leaving Jinyoung to crawl the cramped squares of Literati. He looks at books the way Jinyoung feels about them - his eyes fall on a display of his grandparents’ first editions and he lets out a sigh, clasping his fingers together.

Jinyoung feels guilty _again_  but it’s for an entirely different reason. He recalls what Joe said in the diner then, something about Jaebum being a little lonely and he sees it now.

Jaebum’s a brat, sure, but he’s still sixteen, just like Jinyoung. Jinyoung can only think about how debilitating it must be to move to a completely new place and be met with hostility.

“You should come here more often,” he blurts out, cheeks hot.

Jaebum widens his eyes, surprised, but Jinyoung can see a bit of hope twinkling in his dark eyes. The gradual, gleeful upturn of his lips, the way Jaebum instinctively shuffles closer. Lets his hands trace the books on a table, fingers coiling tightly around one of them as he pulls it to his chest.

“Jinyoung. Really?” he confirms, words hushed.

“Of course,” Jinyoung nods, much more determined in his decision now. Suddenly like that, their weeks of childish quarrelling seems to be inconsequential, buried under layers and layers of all the new memories they were to make together.

Jinyoung feels a tug at his heartstrings when Jaebum rushes forward, wraps his arms around Jinyoung in a tight hug.

He feels something then, a promise for great things. This feeling is something he’ll bring up later, when they’re older, when Jaebum’s arms hold him cozy, when Jaebum’s lips press curves into his spine.

“I felt it too,” Jaebum will admit then, sucking a spot into Jinyoung’s shoulder.

Intuition’s a funny thing.

 

* * *

 

  
The throb of EDM isn't as painful anymore and Jinyoung doesn't need to squint through glaring lights to make out familiar faces - it's not pleasant by any means but...this is.

He wants to owe his loose inhibitions to the shots of vodka in his system but Jinyoung knows it's got little to do with the alcohol at all and more with how dizzying Jaebum's cologne is this close, how (if Jinyoung wanted to) he'd just need to spread his fingers to trace the veins on Jaebum's hands and there's not much space at all between their lips. Not like this, when his thigh's burning against Jinyoung’s, when he's leaning in, in to whisper lazy words with the most indulgent of grins, when his hand rests casually on Jaebum’s chest. This is happening and his heart thrums under Jinyoung’s palm, tangible, real and it's a giddying, wonderful thought.

"Aren't you supposed to hate having a good time?" and Jinyoung’s hand slides away from his chest, dropping to his knee. "What are you even doing here?" his tone is teasing, light. almost flirtatious.

Jaebum’s not entirely guiltless either. Jinyoung’s watched him knock back a few shots and Jaebum’s abandoned his whiskey on the coffee table. His hand rests on Jinyoung’s inner thigh, thumb lazily drawing lines and circles. Jinyoung feels it through the fabric of his pants, every small caress setting his body on fire. This is not what you do with casual friends, he thinks faintly, then realises he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. There’s a small smile on Jaebum’s face and Jinyoung can’t help but smile back, biting his lips and swallowing a giggle as he does.

“I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone,” Jaebum grins. “You, on the other hand…”

Jinyoung just rolls his eyes at Jaebum, knowing what’s about to come.

“Never thought I’d live to see the day Park Jinyoung gets drunk.” They still banter after months of awkwardly established friendship but it’s friendly now, sweetly coquettish and there’s intention to get closer.

It’s maddening how Jaebum’s words reverberate with a spark within Jinyoung’s chest and Jinyoung gets lost in the feel of Jaebum’s fingers against his thigh again. He wonders when his trousers would burn and give way for more. The ache for closer is weighing so Jinyoung gives into temptation, shifting in his seat. His hair brushes against Jaebum’s cheek as he turns his torso towards him, holding onto Jaebum’s arm for balance. The light in his eyes is entrancing like this, on glorious display for Jinyoung’s eyes and his alone and he presses his lips together, eyes wandering the expanse of his face before returning to his again.

“I like it when you call me Jinyoungie,” and he lets the roaming hand on Jaebum’s thigh enjoy its traverse there. “and just because I don’t party like Jackson and Brian doesn’t mean I don’t drink.”

“Okay, Jinyoungie,” he says breathlessly in return. He looks at Jinyoung openly now, almost admiringly and it feels really intimate.

“And I’m only slightly tipsy,” his pout is exaggerated but there’s meaning behind it - he’s conscious of what he’s doing and so willing, eyes flitting to Jaebum’s lips. “I’m just trying to enjoy myself.”

He pauses, lets out another small huff. Jinyoung makes sure he’s still holding Jaebum’s attention before holding up his hand, ticking off fingers as he goes. “I’ve never woken up with a hangover, never had a sleazy one night stand, never partied until my body collapsed from the excitement of it.”

Jaebum rests his hand on the back of the couch, takes a strand of Jinyoung’s hair between his fingers.

“You do wish for the strangest things, Nyeongie. All they bring is discomfort and worrying,” he says absentmindedly, fingers still playing with Jinyoung’s hair and eyes still fixed on the way Jinyoung’s lips move.

Jinyoung’s almost lost in the way the nickname rolls off Jaebum’s tongue, two syllables passing like religion in the whisper of space between them.

He feels a bit breathless now. All they've done is brush hands and trade scanty words but Jaebum’s eyes on him and his eyes on Jaebum’s feels like stepping out into foreign land and finding abode there. The heat of it makes him wonder if they've kissed already - surely, they must have. His heart's racing and he's feeling pleasurably light headed and the world around them's ceased to exist a long, long time ago. His voice is an instrument and Jinyoung's registering his words belatedly, like they're lyrics and he's forcing himself to pay attention to them.

His eyes fall to Jaebum’s hand, giving in, and he's taking it in his like an unapologetically curious child.

“I just want to feel alive,” and he threads their fingers together, liking how they need some tweaking. Jinyoung flexes his fingers a bit, throws his thumb over Jaebum’s.

“I’m going to worry either way. Might as well make it worth the trouble.”

“You should build your own roads, Jinyoung. Standing on them will make you feel so much more accomplished,” Jaebum brings their linked hands closer to his face and studies them, sees Jinyoung's soft fingers against his own, finally sees them up close. He hums approvingly a few beats later and lets their hands rest somewhere between them.

“It makes them feel alive,” and Jinyoung’s reply is raw, frustrated. As if the world’s at fault here and not his own worries. “Why shouldn’t it work for me?”

He doesn’t let go of Jaebum’s hand, only holding it tighter. “I just don’t know how to do that, Jaebum.”

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” Jaebum replies. “You’re too sure about those people being happy with their lives. People spend their whole lives pretending to know what living is that they start to believe it.”

“And is that so bad?” Jinyoung retaliates, sounding a bit desperate. “If they’re so happy, why can’t we let them pretend?”

“Oh, we can.” Jaebum’s response comes quick and there’s humour in his tone. His next words carry so much weight though - they’re sharing everything, holding nothing back.

“But we’re not the type of people to fool ourselves.”

Jinyoung lets his shoulder brush against Jaebum’s, shifts a bit so that his back rests against Jaebum’s chest. He brings their hands to his lap to clasp the other one over it, enveloping Jaebum’s warmth between his own.

“Do you feel alive, Jaebum?” he gasps softly, tilting his head to meet Jaebum’s eyes again, hope and understanding glowing in them.

Jaebum sucks his breath in then, chin hovering right above Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“Right now? More than in a long time.”

Nothing could prepare Jinyoung for an admission so vulnerable and open. He’s drawn to turn his head - he does and their cheeks are almost brushing and like this, he can count Jaebum’s lashes like this, one by one, see patches of colour across his skin. They're the only dynamic pieces in a room full of static and his words rush through Jinyoung’s system like wildfire, setting him alight in glorious, unfamiliar ways.

“Oh, Jaebum.” and it's all he can manage, voice cracking under duress and Jinyoung's letting a hand free to cup his face, touch tender and trembling. He wishes he had the courage to go all out but he's mustering only a sliver, letting his lips press against Jaebum’s forehead in a manner entirely intimate before dropping his hand, tearing his face away.

Jaebum catches Jinyoung’s hand when it’s still in the air.

“Do you?” he whispers, reverent. His eyes are searching for an answer in Jinyoung’s and who’s Jinyoung to deny Jaebum anything like this. He nods, feeling his heart wanting to burst through his chest and only nods harder when Jaebum pulls him close.

He wants Jaebum to kiss him, he wants Jaebum to whisper promises to him, he wants to feel everything Jaebum’s ever felt and Jinyoung closes his eyes, just lets Jaebum take the lead, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

Soft lips press against his skin. It’s not his lips, not quite, as if terrified to move any closer. Jinyoung’s surprised laughter is muffled into Jaebum’s jaw and he feels, goodness - how he feels for the boy next to him.

He shifts a bit then, cups Jaebum’s face and it’s almost like giving Jaebum permission.

Jaebum swallows before finally kissing him, soft and gentle, holding Jinyoung like he’s porcelain.

Fondness comes softly, gently, fragile and Jinyoung feels the chasteness of it, entirely besotted and Jinyoung’s uncertain of what to do but he’s smiling into it, tastes faint hints of coffee and whiskey on Jaebum. It’s with giddiness he registers how incredibly soft Jaebum’s lips are - like him, like him and it’s got Jinyoung kissing him back, nervous and inexperienced.

“Your lips are so soft,” he whispers against them in awe, a giggle bubbling from his chest.

“ _You're_  soft,” Jaebum whispers back, allowing Jinyoung to pepper kiss after kiss against his lips.

Jaebum pulls Jinyoung closer to him then, even if there’s no space between them, clutching Jinyoung’s sides and kissing him stronger this time, lips certain.

And Jinyoung’s so hyperaware of everything Jaebum - the hands on his sides, the lips against his skin, Jaebum’s thigh pressing against his. Everything around them a messy blur and it’s only when his hands are on Jaebum’s chest, fiddling with shirt buttons, when Jaebum’s eased Jinyoung into his lap that he realises they’re not just innocently kissing anymore. Jaebum’s teeth find his jaw, grazing against bone and Jinyoung lets out a small noise of pleasure before realising himself, scooting off of Jaebum’s lap and clearing his throat.

He doesn’t pull away though, just looks awfully bashful and Jaebum chuckles softly.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Jaebum teases but there’s some nervousness to it. Jinyoung turns to look at him again, pretty blush in his cheeks.

“Take me out on a date first,” Jinyoung says lightly but he finds Jaebum’s hand on the couch and entwines their fingers together again.

 

* * *

 

 

Jinyoung spends his Friday night with a bottle of cheap white wine, one of Jaebum’s several playlists playing from his laptop speakers and Jaebum’s book placed on his trembling thighs.

Reece works Friday nights. They’re not together like that for him to come home to him instead of his own apartment and right now, with alcohol coursing pleasantly through Jinyoung’s veins, he’s almost thankful.

Jaebum’s back in his life now and Jinyoung needs to make time for him too.

But his thighs tremble, his fingers tremble. He’s only opened it to the first page several times, read the two words printed on it, boldly declaring Jaebum’s devotion before slamming it shut again. It’s been like this for almost two weeks now and Jaebum hasn’t bothered him about it. His presence isn’t even as palpable as it should be and Jinyoung hates himself for craving it.

Trips to the diner have always been dismal since Jaebum left for New York but it’s far more unpleasant now. Jinyoung will pop in for a bagel and his coffee before class hours and see no hint of Jaebum there. None of his scarves, not a whiff of his cologne. Joe doesn’t eye him with the sort of apprehension Jinyoung had expected from him - he was walking on eggshells around him when Jaebum had left. Why doesn’t he do that now?

The book grounds him to reality. it’s a concrete reminder that Jaebum was indeed there, that Jinyoung wasn’t hallucinating. It sits in his lap now, aching to be loved by his eyes and fingers and heart and he feels the weight of their past heavy on his shoulders.

Jinyoung has to remind himself to breathe.

Take another steadying sip of alcohol, let the warmth of it burn his belly, numb his jittery nerves. Never has he been this afraid of Im Jaebum’s words.

He flips the cover open again. it’s the twenty third time this night already and he stays at the words inked into the first page, forces the tears away from him eyes and musters the strength to turn the page.

 _You can do this_ , he reassures himself. _They’re just words._

God, he’s wrong. Jinyoung’s so tragically wrong. They’re not just words, they’re his words and they drip with his love, his adoration, words so pointedly  _him._

 

> _i wonder -_
> 
> _if you can feel my heartbeat against your tongue._  
>  _you kiss my pulse like it holds something dear to you_  
>  _and i wonder, my sweetness,_  
>  _if it travels through your mouth and echoes in your_  
>  _arteries,_  
>  _our hearts in synchrony._

\- There’s only so much Jinyoung can take.

There’s ache to rip his hair out but he only flings the book across his room instead. He squeezes his eyes shut, feel tears staining his cheeks when they slam against his wall, falling to the carpet with a resounding thud. Jaebum’s words tug strangled noises from his throat and Jinyoung loves him, he hates him, he left and now he’s back and he can’t function anymore.

He hates him. He hates Im Jaebum so fucking much.

And it takes him a while - seconds, minutes, quarter of an hour, who knows. He rises from his bed though, straightens the collar of his jumper, rubs at his eyes. It’s with incredible coolness then - he kneels by the book, ignores the furious thud against his ribcage.

Jinyoung plucks it from the ground, collapses against the wall and gives the spine a reverent kiss. He flips it to the abandoned page again and reads for a while before groping around for his phone, intoxicated on a lot more than just alcohol and finds a number in his blocked contacts.

 _You’re having dinner with me tomorrow_ , it’s curt, almost a command, and Jinyoung tosses his phone onto his bed before devouring Jaebum’s words again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a head's up, chapter 3 mightn't come this soon!! my muse is an inconsistent thing but leave me some cute comments? :') it's always super motivating ahahah


	3. you talk about poems like marxists talk of revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> be careful, you are not in wonderland.  
> i've heard the strange madness long growing in your soul.
> 
> \- a. ginsberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets a lil pg-13 in the first bit but i promise that'll be the extent of this fic's touchy feeliness c:

Jinyoung’s made his home in Jaebum’s lap. It’s nice, how everything he wants is so easily accessible - it requires little effort to lean down and kiss his boyfriend, just languidly make out for _hours_ if he wishes to (which they’ve done already, indulging temptation). Jaebum’s chest is pressed against his chest and their shirts are abandoned somewhere, leaving room for curious, wanton hands to wander ridges and muscle. The planes of Jaebum’s chest, the bulge of his arms, an innocent finger brushing against nipple ever so often.

He leans forward, finds Jaebum’s lips at his jaw in seconds. Then his throat, the spot behind his ear, the stubbly length of his jaw. Jaebum’s hands are as exploratory as his own.

“You still haven’t told me why you hate Siken so much,” and it’s insane, how calm he sounds for someone so wrecked.

Jaebum presses an adoring knuckle against Jinyoung’s collarbone. An innocent, silly gesture that has Jinyoung blushing, turning his head for lips to meet the inside of Jaebum’s palm. He gives it a gentle bite, nuzzling into Jaebum’s wrist then, feels the roaring thrum of his pulse.

Jaebum keeps himself close to Jinyoung, breathing hotly against his cheek.

“Too pretentious,” he states after a beat.

Jinyoung’s laughter is surprised and loud, a tinker echoing in the room, falling sweetly in tune with the music playing from Jaebum’s computer.

Lips find Jinyoung’s throat again and Jaebum sucks on it lightly. “He writes like a teenager who’s read one too many romance novels.” Jinyoung’s hands find his shoulders, clutching unsteadily, lips parted in a soft gasp. His fingers tremble and he breathes Jaebum’s name against his neck, barely managing. He shifts in Jaebum’s lap, moves away from his mouth and draws Jaebum’s face in his hands, nuzzling their noses together, kissing him softly.

“ _Moonlight making crosses on your body_ ,” and he pauses, lets his lips trail down the side of Jaebum’s face, open mouthed and hot. Jinyoung feels his lips tremble against Jaebum’s skin and he nips the top of Jaebum’s cheekbone.

His murmur comes shaky, mouth finding Jaebum’s stubble, crawling up the length of it.

“ _And me putting my mouth on every one._ ” He pauses at Jaebum’s ear, taking his earlobe between his lips, sucking lightly between taking it between his teeth.

Jaebum’s eyes are closed when Jinyoung pulls a breadth away, lips parted. He’s breathing heavily and Jinyoung’s lips twitch in a lazy smile.

“I don’t think this is entirely objective,” Jaebum keeps his voice low. He lets out another shaky breath, hands gripping Jinyoung’s waist. “You can make anything sound beautiful like that.”

Jaebum pulls him closer and Jinyoung drags his lips down his boyfriend’s neck. He smiles against him, lips finding Jaebum’s pulse and his kiss there is gentle, almost reverent.

“But it’s fair, baby,” and Jinyoung’s pressing down in his lap, arms crawling behind his back, a hand tugging at Jaebum’s hair to give him easier access.

It’s almost rough, the way he does it, but Jinyoung’s kisses come tender and loving again, a sharp contrast.

“You’re the one who’s wooed me with words.” Jinyoung has to pause, draw back, let Jaebum take in how wrecked Jinyoung looks for him.

“Beautiful words,” he corrects himself, a chaste kiss to the side of Jaebum’s mouth. “Like you.”

His lips stay there, the tremble giving his nerves away. It’s surreal how comfortable Jinyoung is with him, more than he’d ever anticipated, how Jaebum holds himself back with him, how he treats Jinyoung with nothing but tenderness. Like the hands holding his sides are exploratory but always _just_ appropriate, cautious, treating Jinyoung like he’s fragile.

His decision comes a few beats later, words laced with a mixture of determination and anxiety. He shifts away from Jaebum’s lap, crawling across the bed to lean against the headboard. With heated cheeks, he unbuttons his trousers, fiercely meeting Jaebum’s gaze before easing out of them. His briefs stay on but he plays with the hem of it nervously, wondering if Jaebum wants this too. If he’s not taking any liberties, if he’s not moving too fast.

This is just fine for now, he decides. They’ve got years to do all of this together.

“I love you, Jaebum,” and although they’ve never thrown those words around, always have had meaning, there’s a different weight to it now, a tone of finality to the way Jinyoung says them.

He feels slightly self conscious like this. Jinyoung doesn’t look like the boys from the magazines him and Jaebum have perused through together - he’s a gangly seventeen year old with sharp joints and excess fat in his cheeks and he doesn’t think there’s anything enticing about himself like this at all.

He parts his lips to say something else then, a nervous apology bubbling in his throat, desire to cover his thighs overwhelming but Jaebum’s moving towards him then. He looks flushed too, tongue darting to wet his lips, eyes blown out in ways Jinyoung’s never seen before.

“Jinyoungie,” he breathes and Jinyoung doesn’t realise he’s got tears burning his cheeks until Jaebum holds them in both hands, wiping them away. “My beautiful Jinyoungie. Are you sure about this?”

“I am.” It doesn’t seem so frightening anymore with Jaebum holding him secure like this. He lets Jaebum manoeuvre him on top again and he whispers against Jaebum’s lips, a quiver in his words. “Baby steps, though.”

Jinyoung lets his words linger for a while before drawing Jaebum’s face closer, taking charge to prove just how much he _wants_ this, mouth hot and sloppy against his, fingers in tangles behind Jaebum’s neck.

He only pulls away to drag Jaebum’s palms to the curve of his ass then, a shy blush in Jaebum’s cheeks mirroring the one in his own. “You’re allowed to touch, silly,” he hums, lets his nervous giggles echo with Jaebum’s before bringing their mouths together again.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum had always been slightly discontent about something.

It was the weather all through fall, the brittle cold and gloomy clouds cause for his irritation. It was Joe a few weeks later, about how he’d constantly try to force Jaebum to be someone he wasn’t. It was himself then, how he’d never be good enough for anything, about how his writing just fell flat and mediocre, about how his limbs were too long and nose was too pointy and his fucking brain just wouldn’t stop making him feel miserable and unhappy about _everything_ in his life.

It wasn’t ever Jinyoung, though. He’d reserve uncharacteristic sweetness for Jinyoung, a loyal pup who’d follow his boyfriend’s every whim. There was devotion from the day they’d started dating until now, unwavering. If anything, Jinyoung just feels their love grow stronger with the days, nothing about Jaebum’s intensity ever overwhelming.

He’s wanted this all along. Jaebum loves him, Jinyoung loves him back and there’s never any conflict. Jaebum’s never given him reason to be wary.

Wonpil and Brian joke something about how they’re the perfect high school sweethearts, chuckling about it like there’s something to be embarrassed about. Strange, because Jinyoung’s ready to broadcast his love for the whole world to know.

Jaebum’s not quite like that but he writes about Jinyoung in ways he can only be appreciative of. It’s all wild and beautiful, stanzas upon stanzas about the marvel he was, how poets only ever dream of a lover like him. Nobody can blame Jinyoung for being slightly unnerved then - they’re eighteen, the world around him a barely comprehensible nightmare and the clock ticks, slow and steady, commanding decisions and ultimatums.

His parents want him to study at the town university so Jinyoung does that. Jaebum doesn’t apply with him - something about how academia just wasn’t his cup of tea and there’s something asphyxiating about institutionalised education. They’re both very different people, so Jinyoung doesn’t allow himself to get upset by Jaebum’s offhandedness, only because he knows his happiness will always be Jaebum’s priority.

Jaebum has always been honest with him, even in trying times, but Jinyoung knows that Jaebum will never, _ever_ cause him grief without there being good reason for it.

Or he supposes, anyway. It’s been three blissful years with Jaebum with brief episodes of unsteadiness but they’ll survive through anything, is what Jinyoung tells him. They’re curled up in bed when he does, assignments pending and Jaebum’s shift at the diner a quarter of an hour away. He kisses the spot between Jaebum’s brow, purrs contently when arms wrap tightly around him.

Jinyoung will go on to choose early childhood education as his major and he’ll come to love it with a passion he’d only reserved for books before. It makes sense, his parents had nodded in approval. Jinyoung’s always been nurturing in a decided sort of manner, incredibly patient, with so much love to give.

So much of it, Jinyoung will cry into his pillow then, aching for Jaebum’s body pressing against his, for Jaebum’s strong arms holding him close, for soft lips to whisper a lullaby against his ear.

He’s weeks away from his twentieth birthday though, and all Jaebum’s left him with are bitter memories.

 

* * *

 

 

Jinyoung’s fortunate to narrowly escape a hangover but his decisions from last night sit unpalatable like regret. He’s at Stumptowns, a small café near the town university the boys used to frequent when they were younger. They’d come here after Jinyoung’s classes and Jaebum’s shifts, sweet respite from the rest of the world, cozy in their corner with Jinyoung’s white tea and Jaebum’s steaming black coffee.

Jinyoung almost regrets suggesting Stumptowns. Nostalgia drips from the ceiling and sticks to the walls - their iconic loveseat is unoccupied and he swallows the bile in his throat, fingers shaky. He holds another one of Reece’s suggested books - this one’s a biography of someone Jinyoung’s never heard of. The writing’s bland, the story uninspiring but he holds the book tightly, a stoic reminder that him at twenty three is very different from the boy Jaebum left at twenty.

The door chimes with Jaebum’s arrival. Jinyoung knows it’s him without having to look up - the familiar shuffle of his combat boots against the marble tiles, the slow pacing before he finally spots Jinyoung. Jinyoung’s hasty about flipping the book open to a random page, straightening the round glasses on his nose. He makes a big deal of being thoroughly immersed in the book then, cheeks heated and he takes a sip from his tepid tea, trying to be awfully casual about the entire thing.

It’s only when Jaebum stands in front of him, a tentative smile on his face that Jinyoung realises he’s been holding the book upside down the whole time. Jaebum notices it too, raising a brow slightly but he knows better than to comment on it. Jinyoung’s only mildly thankful - there’s a lot for him to be bitter about without Jaebum’s cool judgment for this - and he returns Jaebum’s smile with a forced one of his own.

Like this, with warmth streaming through the glass panes, Jinyoung sees Jaebum clearer now. Three years is a long time, he notes faintly, taking in just how…assured Jaebum seems. His shoulders are broader and his stubble’s wilder but he _looks_ the same in a lot of familiar ways - Jinyoung can see Jaebum’s softness in his gaze, his sheepishness for doing something Jinyoung doesn’t approve of. Love too, in the way he parts his lips with what Jinyoung supposes is an apology or something intensely heartfelt and far too inappropriate for sunny, midday rendezvouses. It’s an endearing kind of awkwardness and Jinyoung aches to stretch across the table and embrace Jaebum in a hug, a _Welcome back, my friend_ of sorts.

There never was any love lost between them. Jinyoung’s still certain that their soulmates - it’s an unspoken assurance between them. Jaebum is his and he’s Jaebum’s and he knows, just standing like this, without a drop of alcohol in his veins, that they’ll be each other’s again.

Jaebum has hurt him though, another unspoken thing between them, and it cannot be ignored.

“Hello,” he says curtly, and before Jaebum can greet him in return, “Sit.”

Jaebum’s prompt obedience still manages to surprise Jinyoung. It’s been a while - hundreds of kilometres and thirty six months of distance between them - but some things never change. He follows Jinyoung’s orders, hasty and anxious, chair screeching against the floor and he looks up at Jinyoung with anticipation then, folding his hands together.

“I didn’t expect you to ask to meet with me this soon,” Jaebum admits, fiddling with his fingers atop the table.

“Me neither,” Jinyoung replies, slightly awkward. He clears his throat, tries to muster some warmth, if only to calm Jaebum’s nerves. “You’ve got some gall, Jaebum.”

Jaebum’s lips twitch with a hint of a smile and Jinyoung can’t help the strange flutter in his stomach. He’s still so innocent and boyish, despite the line of earrings dotting the curve of his ears now, the unkempt hair, the foreboding looking ring on his index finger.

He’s instinctive in shoving the crappy paperback aside. It slides off the table and into his bag - Jaebum’s too busy trying not to smile to notice.

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t at least slightly audacious,” Jaebum hums, trying to seem nonchalant but Jinyoung knows his nerves are on fire. His eyes dart from Jinyoung’s face to his clasped hands to Jinyoung’s face again - Jinyoung can’t help the pang of sympathy and he valiantly attempts to quell it.

 _Jaebum broke your heart_ , and it’s a pathetically weak reminder, _You’re supposed to be upset with him, fool_.

“How’s the book doing?” he tries instead, even though he’s been keeping track of its sales and what the critics have to say about it. It’s all been outstanding and Jinyoung acts like he’s got no idea, beckoning the waitress to take their order.

He knows Jaebum’s better than his own - Jaebum’s staple has always been the teriyaki chicken panini for years now. Jinyoung takes a while with his order, squinting at the menu and going through five other dishes before settling on something he’s never tried before, proudly declaring it to their very accommodating waitress.

“That’s going to have shrimp, Jinyoung,” Jaebum offers, a little concerned. “You’re allergic.”

And it’s another five minutes of profuse apologising and nervous decision making before he orders a panini for himself too. There’s comfort in this strange routine - if Jinyoung doesn’t think too hard, the three years lost between them almost ceases to exist. Time always does freeze around them, the only real presence being them and whatever catches their fancy for that hour.

It really shouldn’t be this easy.

“It’s fine,” Jaebum says offhandedly, as if the success of his debut isn’t as important as what he’s about to ask. “Jinyoung, if you’re here to reprimand or ask me to leave town before I hurt you any further - “

“That’s not what this is about,” and Jinyoung’s defense comes hasty, his cheeks flaming red. He drops his gaze to his teacup, fingers wrapping around porcelain.

A few beats of silence pass between them. Jinyoung’s not sure what it is about either. He almost wants to admit to his impassioned mistake - that he was drowning without anchor amongst Jaebum’s words and their memories, that he was beyond drunk when he’d demanded Jaebum’s company, that he just wants to return to when they were nineteen and happy and hopeful and each other’s.

“I j-just. Fuck, Jaebum, I don’t know, okay?” He hisses, blinking furiously, trying to keep his tears away. “But it’s not about that. I don’t hate you. I know why you left and I understand why you’re back and - I’m just tired of being upset with you.”

“I’m really sorry, Jinyoung.” The words hurt because he’s being sincere, because Jaebum would never, _ever_ lie to him. “For everything.”

Jinyoung wants to say this - he’s fucking overjoyed that Jaebum’s back, his soul doesn’t feel broken anymore, everything he’s yearned for and loved and wanted to live for is back, Jaebum’s back, his twin flame’s back but they’re all stuck in his throat. He can’t make professions the way Jaebum can now, not without his stomach turning on him and he can’t look up at Jaebum either. He feels Jaebum’s worried gaze on him but he keeps his eyes on the golden plated rim of the cup. He traces the perimeter of it, swallowing the bubbling sobs in his throat, urging them to stay loyal to him.

“I was lost when you left me,” he admits then, hoarse and brutally honest.

“It was a mistake, Jinyoung.” He hears raw emotion in Jaebum’s voice, feels him on the verge of tears too. “For the first three months. I had no money, the competition was gruelling, the people were all too foreign and awful. But how -“

There’s a stammer in his words and Jinyoung looks up, struggling to breathe, watery eyes meeting Jaebum’s across the table.

“How could I return without anything to prove that…that it was worth it?” Jaebum’s words ache and Jinyoung covers his mouth with his palm, biting his lower lip. “That…leaving you, leaving Joe, leaving opportunity - however stale, Jinyoung, you know I would’ve been miserable without at least _seeing_ what the world had to offer - I had to return with something to show of it, right?”

“No,” Jinyoung shakes his head, crumbling. “You just had to return to me.”

“You’ve grown so much, love,” Jaebum whispers, meeting his gaze, holding it firm. “Joe’s kid tells me you’re the best teacher at his school. Everyone loves you there.”

“Shut up,” Jinyoung sniffs, rubbing his nose. “I could’ve done that with you too.”

“I know,” Jaebum replies softly, a dumb smile on his face. Jinyoung really wants to kick him under the table, throw a petulant fit, shake Jaebum’s shoulders back and forth until he’s pleading for his madman to stop. “But you’ve always deserved more than some gloomy idiot to call yours. I really…wanted to be something for you. I still do, Jinyoung, even if you’re with someone else now.”

“I am,” he replies defiantly, if only to see Jaebum’s reaction.

Jaebum does deflate a little but he nods in understanding, solemn. “And I understand. It’d be daft of me to assume you haven’t made a throng of boys fall in love with you over the course of three years. Is it Brian?”

“Fuck off,” Jinyoung smiles weakly, kicking his shin under the table now. “That’s daft.”

“If someone’s going to be writing poetry about you,” Jaebum continues, “It really can’t be half assed.”

Jinyoung sucks in his breath and allows himself to frown disapprovingly at Jaebum for his irritating candour.

“You’re infuriating,” he huffs, averting his gaze.

”Don’t be upset with me anymore, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum pleads softly.

Like this, with their gazes still locked, with Jaebum’s eyes aching for forgiveness, for a second chance, Jinyoung can’t say no. He doesn’t want to, he realises with a start, pressing his lips together.

He wants another opportunity too. Their love is deserving of it and it’d be foolish to let a miracle like theirs die without at least _trying_ again.

”We’ll see about that,” he deadpans instead.

Their waitress returns with plates of food then, and he pointedly avoids Jaebum’s miserable whine before digging in.

“Just friends for now, Jaebum,” he waves his fork threateningly at the other man, trying to stay in control here but he knows he sounds weak, he _knows_ they’re fated for far more than “just friends”.

Jaebum takes what he can get though. He nods fervently, earnest, childishly determined.

“I’ll take it, Jinyoungie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so! this came a little later than i'd promised but i hope the wait was worth it? i wanted to write the breakup in this chapter but i really did feel like easing some of the angst before unloading that mess onto you. it's definitely going to be a lot more hopeful now - i'm sorry if it isn't too angsty, ahah, i just like the romance of two souls reconnecting too much to write a lot of it. D: 
> 
> let me know what you guys think, though! i'm jjpartners @ tumblr & jjprojectpls @ twitter so you can come talk to me there too. c:


	4. in that moment, i live eternities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " - yet when we came back late, from the hyacinth garden  
> your arms full, and your hair wet, i could not  
> speak, and my eyes failed, i was neither  
> living nor dead, and i knew nothing  
> looking into the heart of light, the silence."
> 
>  
> 
> \- t.s. eliot

It’s only when Jinyoung returns home, breathless and giggly from his lunch with Jaebum, that the glamour of it fades away.

He stands still by his door, then. Taking deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to still the erratic thrum in his chest. It’s a flood he can’t quite explain, a longing for comfort again, all his irritation and anger towards Jaebum bubbling in his chest like it had the previous night, threatening to spill all over his carpet again.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shopping bag dropping to the floor. Reece’s recommendation slips out of it, standing a tent on the ground, the words on its spine glaring up at him.

Like this, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re crazy, Jinyoung,” he hisses, running a frustrated hand through his hair. The words come shaky, disbelieving, as if the calm, attentive man at lunch with Jaebum is entirely different from the one standing in his living room.

There isn’t much of Jaebum here. This space exists in isolation - he’d rented the flat because it was so far away from everything that reminded Jinyoung of his ex boyfriend. He doesn’t see Jaebum on the streets surrounding his building, doesn’t see Jaebum’s footprints on his wooden floor. He doesn’t see Jaebum in the potted plants - Jaebum was always a little allergic to pollen, bursting with sneezes during springtime.

Jinyoung stands in the middle of his living room and wonders, truly, for the first time in years, if this place really felt like home at all.

He slips out of his sandals, abandoning them by his couch. He leaves a trail of his belongings all the way to his closet, yanking the door open. He doesn’t need to switch the lights on to hunt for what he’s looking for - he shoves aside a line of clothes, plucks aside piles of aged winter wear, claws through spiderwebs.

Greedy hands find what they were looking for. Jinyoung wraps his fingers around the wooden box and the thud of his heart only gets louder, faster. He pulls it out from his closet, presses his back against the door and closes it shut.

Jinyoung’s on the floor seconds later, back to the wall. He traces the engravings on the box, reverent and almost in awe, spreads his palm across the embossed letters.

 _JJ_ \- and how he’d laughed about it with Jaebum when they were younger. They’d found it at one of their town’s flea markets, a beautiful piece of antique that could’ve belonged to someone else years and years ago. They’d bought it together, only for the romance of the letters.

“Fucking Jaebum,” he splutters on a laugh, only realising he’s crying until he tastes his tears. He laughs again, a bit hopeless this time, rubbing his eyes fervently, bravely trying to stop.

He unlocks it with shaky hands, biting down a whimper as he does. The lid slides open and he holds it close to his chest, chokes on another sob when he sees the layers of paper scraps there, untainted. They’re only slightly yellow with age, protected by the wooden case and he runs a hand through them, as if passing through a wave.

It tingles, ends of paper fluttering with his touch. It’s scrawls upon scrawls of Jaebum’s poetry, all hasty writing between lectures. In the library, while Jinyoung attempted to study with Jaebum’s pleading gaze on him, urging his attention. While Jinyoung showered and Jaebum wrote on his bed, only passing the sweet note only when he had to towel dry Jinyoung’s hair.

There’s nothing literary about most of it. It’s silly things, from one lovestruck teenager to another.

 _I’m going to kiss you in the rain someday,_ reads one and Jinyoung’s giggling again. He turns it over, knows what to expect but laughs in surprise when he sees it again. It’s a small wink emoji - an ugly, disproportionate little thing. Jaebum was good with words, not so much with visual art and Jinyoung raises it to his lips, kisses it softly, if only to be grateful for the memory.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, what you’re trying to tell us is…” Brian starts, barely containing the bewilderment in his tone, “You cried, then asked him to meet you for lunch and everything seemed dandy then but you only returned home to cry again?”

Jinyoung only nods in response, weary. He doesn’t have to look at Wonpil to know he’s frowning in concern. He knows his best friend well enough to know he’s resisting the urge to stretch across the table and place his hand over Jinyoung’s.

“Do you know how weird that sounds, Jinyoungie?” There’s definite incredulity in his words now and Jinyoung winces, fingers tightening around his coffee mug.

“He also thought I was dating you,” Jinyoung quips weakly, bringing his tepid drink to his lips.

Tea only reminds him of Jaebum and the americano tastes strange on his tongue, far too unlike him. A lot of this world does - just knowing Jaebum is within his grasp, so tangible, far from a bitter abstraction now is unsettling. Jinyoung wants to reach out, clasp his hands around Jaebum’s, drag him back, pick up from where they’d left each other as if three years lost were of no consequence.

But he doesn’t. Their circumstances are different now. Jaebum doesn’t know him, the possibility of Jaebum not loving this version of him is suffocating.

This is what he tells himself, anyway. Jaebum’s text flashes across the screen and he swipes right, hastily erasing the notification from display.

This is his comfort.

“That’s even weirder,” Brian laughs.

Wonpil laughs along but it’s forced, Jinyoung knows. He looks up, finally, dragging his eyes away from the rancid drink to Wonpil.

And he sees it - sympathy, concern, faint rebuke. Wonpil parts his lips to say something Jinyoung’s not ready for, something Jinyoung’s asked himself for days too. Not because he wants to, really - there’s a gaping hole in his chest and it’s desperate for answers. _Why_ drills into his skull until repetition turns it stale and unforgiving.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know either and he gives Wonpil a look, something to shut him up in Brian’s company.

There’s some tragic humour in all of this, then, Jinyoung realises a few hours past midnight. He shifts Reece’s arm away and reaches for his phone. There’s another bright flash across his screen but he doesn’t erase it now. He doesn’t, despite how loud his heartbeat is, how he’s almost trembling with fear.

He pulls the chat open and there’s relief, incredible relief, as if needles find the tattered edges of the hole in his chest, weaving threads in place.

It’s been almost a week since their lunch and Jaebum’s texts since then are all unanswered. He hasn’t given up though, texting Jinyoung about everything but them. Selfies with Nora, with Joe, with Joe’s daughter smiling toothily for the camera. It’s running commentary about the nicer things in New York, about the comfort to be found in their sleepy hamlet, about books he’s read. There are questions voiced out loud to an unresponsive recipient but Jaebum doesn’t give up and…he won’t, Jinyoung realises faintly, tingles of warmth crawling over his skin.

_Why -_

And he knows now. He knows, fibres making hasty paths over his heart, covering it in clumsy patchwork. Hope seals it tight, trembling with uncertainty and love holds it tighter.

 _It’s like I get lost,_ he sighs, eyes open as his head hits the pillows again, phone still in his sweaty palms. _I’m floating somewhere idyllic, stuck in a universe where everything he’s ever done wrong absolves itself, just like that._

He squeezes his eyes shut, shoving his phone under his pillow.

Jinyoung urges sleep for the hours to follow but it doesn’t come.

 

* * *

 

He hasn’t told Reece about Jaebum, so the arm around Jinyoung’s waist doesn’t tighten possessively. It stays there though - Reece knows of their history, the whole goddamn town does, but their story is only theirs, sacred. It’s what Jinyoung returns to when the entire world turns uninspiring and dreary, the memories his only real source of warmth.

Jaebum’s lips are parted in slight disbelief. Jinyoung untangles himself from Reece’s hold, smiles tensely at the man in front of him before slipping to grab himself a bottle of mustard. He has to stand on his tiptoes for it, a perfectly valid excuse to shift from Reece’s side. He doesn’t return to it, only stares at the two men in front of him.

There’s nothing of interest in Reece’s expression. He just assesses Jaebum as his current partner’s entirely unthreatening ex boyfriend. He’s protective, just not intuitive. Jinyoung knows he wouldn’t sense the tension between the aisles, so asphyxiating and palpable, coiling around Jinyoung’s ankles and rooting him to the spot.

Jinyoung hasn’t seen Jaebum like this before, though. The grip on his shopping cart is unbearably tight, fingers almost white. He blinks once, twice. Wanting to look at Jinyoung - so he does, and hurt crawls all over his features and Jinyoung’s gut turns over, twisting painfully.

“Jaebum, hey. Long time,” Reece greets breezily, and he says it in a way that’s almost sacriligeous. Jinyoung wants to grab Jaebum’s arm and yank him away from this, take him somewhere safe where nothing can hurt him.

But Jaebum stays. He doesn’t flee and Jinyoung watches him, nausea sitting heavily in his mouth, how Jaebum’s terror gradually transforms into…dispassion, of some kind. Determination, Jinyoung realises, Jaebum’s eyes narrowing with fierceness he’s never seen before.

Jaebum loosens his grip on the shopping cart. He smiles disarmingly at Reece then, a slight challenge in the quirk of his brow and his eyes pass over Jinyoung for a second before returning to Reece.

He looks him up and down, assessing him. Jinyoung knows that look.

Jaebum’s disapproval is evident but there’s amusement in the glint of his eyes too. He manages to look effortlessly audacious like that even now and it sends a chill down Jinyoung’s spine.

“You too,” Jaebum replies, cavalier. “I heard from Joe that you’re a nurse now? That’s some drastic recasting from varsity basketball player.”

Reece laughs, loud and booming. Jaebum doesn’t laugh along with him, just smiles cheekily, looking over at Jinyoung with another arched brow. It disappears when Reece looks at him again though, and he’s feigning cordiality again.

“Yeah, I know,” Reece hums, words flowing with a friendly sort of warmth, “My dad’s still in disbelief about it. He’ll come around though, someday?”

He directs the last bit to Jinyoung and Jinyoung can only nod, struggling to process the whole thing. He knows how that might sound - like they’re involved in something serious, if Jinyoung’s in a place to gauge Reece’s father’s reaction to the entire thing.

Jinyoung isn’t. He looks over at Jaebum, apprehensive.

He expects Jaebum to look gutted by the entire thing, as he’d done only moments ago. There’s sweat still clinging to Jaebum’s brow and uneasy pallor in his cheeks but if anything, he only looks more resolute now. His eyes pass over Jinyoung with a silent sort of promise, something that sets Jinyoung’s body alive in ways his body’s craved for years, so long forgotten it almost feels foreign.

“We should meet for dinner sometime,” Jaebum states pointedly. “Let’s catch up, maybe have a class reunion?”

Jaebum is not the kind to suggest class reunions but Reece doesn’t know this. He’s enthused by the entire idea and Jinyoung just stays numb, wordless, wanting to protest to all of it but they just exchange numbers, talk animatedly about high school memories Jinyoung _knows_ Jaebum recalls with nothing but disdain.

He’s the only one who knows Jaebum’s putting on an act like this is his final stage. He’s vehement, valiant, vivacious - so unlike the gloomy boy in the pages of Wonderland, clinging onto threads of the past, nostalgia his greatest vice.

This Jaebum is different. He says something that has Reece cackling hysterically, drawing attention from other shoppers, but he’s looking at Jinyoung, only Jinyoung, a burning fire in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he sighs, as if trying to be polite. “I should probably leave. I’ve promised my godniece an extravagant dinner and I don’t think I’ll be able to live upto her expectations if I don’t rush home now.”

Reece’s hand finds Jinyoung’s and Jaebum doesn’t bat an eyelid.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Reece replies, smiling fondly at a man who probably holds nothing but dislike in his heart for him. “I’ve got your number now and Jinyoung knows how big I am on things like this. I didn’t think you were, actually - but of course, I’m…enthralled, really, because I’ve been itching to organise a reunion for years now.”

He turns to Jinyoung then, “I can’t believe I was prom king. Do you remember that? Holy shit.”

Jinyoung, actually, does not. Jaebum _knows_ he doesn’t - they’d spent prom night together, rental suits abandoned for cozy pajamas and school gym for Jaebum’s battered jeep. They’d parked somewhere safe from prying eyes to gaze at the stars, exchange sweet words, Siken’s poetry on Jinyoung’s lips and Hemingway’s on Jaebum’s. It was all so hilarious then, intimate humour to be found in past misgivings, and he hears Jaebum’s contained laughter now, openly disapproving of Jinyoung’s insincerity.

It turns into a hasty cough. Jinyoung shoots him a nasty look while Reece only moves forward in concern, asking after his health.

“Don’t worry!” Jaebum shakes his head, waving dismissively. “I really should leave though, I’ll see you guys around.”

He moves to leave finally, brushing past Jinyoung as he does. Their shoulders touch, he feels Jaebum’s fingertips brushing against his palm.

He turns to look over his shoulder when Jaebum walks away from them, anxiety weighing heavily in his chest, ribs creaking with the might of it.

Jaebum turns too, as if sensing Jinyoung’s gaze and it’s eerie. He looks into him, right into Jinyoung’s soul, looking at him like nothing else matters and they’re the only two people in the whole store, as if they’re lost somewhere with just each other -

“See ya, Jinyoungie.”

 

* * *

 

"I've always wanted to be kissed in the rain," he confesses on their third date.

Jaebum walks slightly ahead of him, a jolly skip in his step. The admittance has him coiling his fingers around a lamp post, swerving around to face Jinyoung. His lips twitch with amusement, fondness, childish inquiry. 

"You're such a cliché," he murmurs, stretching an arm to tug Jinyoung close. 

Jinyoung's cheeks burn with his teasing. He looks up at Jaebum with fierce challenge though, letting their chests press together for onlookers to see and gawk. 

"What are you going to do about it?" Jinyoung replies curtly, raising a brow.

Jaebum though, he only smiles wider. His lips press warmth to Jinyoung's cheek then, arm coiling around Jinyoung's waist now, holding him secure.

"Kiss my darling in the rain someday," he hums, then draws Jinyoung's lips to his for a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting somewhere, hurrah! (:

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr - jjpartners  
> twitter - jjprojectpls


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